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Words of wisdom (or not) from the meandering mind of a woman who ought to know better...
About Me
- Suzanne
- Middle-aged woman, probably blogging mostly about conventions, computers, and cats. Browncoat, Trek, Star Wars fan. Known as LCDR Opentu Suggestions in Barfleet.
3 comments:
Hee hee. This was mentioned on the radio last week. My first thought was, "Hey! That was in the book I just read!" Seriously, Hal Duncan's _Ink_, which is a sequel to the equally odd _Vellum_ has a "story-line" about the future wars that includes "orgone" weaponry that affects those hit by the rays/bombs with out-of-control immediate-need lust.
They need to drop the "gay bomb" on the Rupublican National Convention...It's too bad Falwell died--I would have paid a lot of money to see him get it on with Pat Robertson...*evil grin*
PASSIONATE NIGHTS LET US ENJOY
Passionate nights of steaming love
Let us enjoy, because
The end is nearing fast enough
Nor we forestall it thus:
But actions of my government
Give rise to enemies
That may well harbor the intent
To ruin such times as these.
Bombing a people to a rubble
Does not engender love,
While--in a world so rife with trouble
Where every day is rough--
It seems we can do little more
Than keep some love alive
Domestic--even though the roar
Of hatred war does drive.
It is but moonlight (or a streetlamp)
Now filters through the window,
While naked flesh-on-flesh so we tramp
In joy--but not a sin do:
I press, caress, and you return
With heaving sighs, the same:
It is a passion, so we burn
Without a sense of shame.
So I will play, and kiss those parts
Of you, a joy to know--
Not quite communion of true hearts
But pleasure, even so.
Ah, words need not report, in detail
What I do, as so makes
Your body writhe--not come by retail,
But joy it is awakes,
Fantastic wild the ecstasy,
But we need not report it,
Wild naked, sweet gentility:
The editors can sort it.
These pleasures are but born of love:
We pray to God our tithe;
But elsewhere rude conditions shove
And other bodies writhe.
The spurting is from blood released,
A body truly dying,
While policy is but appeased,
Unto our own guilt tying;
For ours the government has done
Egregious harm against
Innocents--why, beneath the sun
Was ever war commenced?
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